We humans have learned to despair for a reason.
When what we love disappears, or when we believe we cannot love or be loved, or when we become aware of the outrageously short time we get to live on this planet, we enter a physiological and psychological winter. We give rest to the way we have understood and participated in the world. When there's nowhere to go, despair takes us in.
Last year, in Croatia, the sea was azure, the breeze was caressing, and in the evenings, the voices of people in the lively tourist town eating ice cream were swaying to the music of a street band covering Eurovision classics. One late evening, our daughter Leta walked into our vacation apartment, lay on the couch, and started crying. Inexplicably.
All that she had to say was that she knew too much.